III.
Escaping from Koloa, Kualu and his companions made sail for Hawaii, stopping for supplies at such intermediate points as they deemed safe on the coasts of Oahu, Molokai and Maui, and on the evening of the sixth day arrived at Waipio. They were the first to bring to Hawaii the news of the defeat of Kalaunui on Kauai, and when the people learned that the army had been destroyed the land was filled with wailing.
Appearing at once before Kaheka and her son, Kualu recited to them the story of the dreadful battle, but was unable to tell them definitely of the fate of Kalaunui. The grief of the queen was great, and found strange and unreasonable expression in charging Kualu with cowardice and ordering him from the palace. In vain he protested against the ungenerous treatment. She had never liked him, especially since discovering that he had secured something more than the good-will of Kapapa, and it seemed monstrous to her that he should have survived Kalaunui and the scores of gallant chiefs who fell with him. She cruelly intimated that it was more than probable that, with the force sent to protect the fleet, he had embarked in the canoes without striking a blow, thus treacherously depriving the defeated army of its sole means of escape.
Had these monstrous charges been made by a man Kualu would have answered them with blows; but, as they were the foolish and inconsiderate ravings of a woman, without venturing further reply he took his leave, and with a heart filled with stifled rage and anguish strode from the palace.
Proceeding up the valley, Kualu entered the hut of Waahia. He found the kaula alone, as usual. She knew he was coming, but was none the less rejoiced to meet him. With a word or two of greeting he sat down in silence. The cruel words of Kaheka still stuck like thorns in his throat. Waahia regarded him intently for a time, and then said:
“I know it all. Kalaunui’s army has been destroyed. You escaped in a canoe with three others.”
“And Kalaunui?” questioned Kualu, not a little amazed at the correctness of her information.
“Is a prisoner,” replied the kaula.
“Thank the gods for that!” exclaimed the chief vehemently. “He must be liberated, for he can tell her that in escaping I acted neither with cowardice nor treachery!”
“Tell whom?” inquired the kaula.
“Kaheka,” answered Kualu. “She charges me with cowardice and desertion.”
“Then Kaheka accuses you of what I know to be false!” said Waahia.
“Yes,” returned the chief; “but the witnesses to my fidelity are few and humble, and the words of the king can alone relieve me in the eyes of the aha alii of the disgrace with which the charges of Kaheka will cover me.”
“True,” replied the kaula, encouragingly; “but the disgrace will not be lasting, for the king will return to do you justice.”
“When will he return?” eagerly inquired the chief.
“I cannot tell,” answered Waahia; “but I know that his rule is not yet at an end in Hawaii, and you must be patient.”
And Kualu promised to be patient, and for a few days bore the neglect and frowns of his former friends, and the sneers and covert insults of his enemies. But when the heartless accusations of Kaheka, passing from tongue to tongue with the news of the dreadful slaughter, became generally known, and almost as generally believed, notwithstanding the statements of his three companions to the contrary, Kualu’s indignation could no longer be restrained, and he challenged to combat and slew on the spot a chief who, in the presence of a party of friends, repeated the charges to his face. Great excitement followed, and in his desperation and wrath Kualu invited the friends of his fallen defamer, one and all, to test his courage then or thereafter.
As the life of Kualu was now in constant and undoubted peril, Waahia advised him to leave Hawaii for a time, and together they set sail for Molokai, and took up their residence at Kalaupapa. But before leaving Waipio the kaula called upon the high-priest, by whom she was held in great respect, and told him where she might be found on Molokai, should her services be required.
“And they will be required,” said Waahia, significantly. “Kalaunui is not dead, and when you shall have failed in all your efforts to liberate him, tell Kaheka to think better of Kualu and send for me.”
“How know you that Kalaunui still lives?” inquired the priest.
“Should the high-priest of Pakaalani ask me that question?” replied Waahia. “Where are his seers? Where are the kilos of the temple, who in the heavens saw victory for Kalaunui where I beheld defeat? Have they not been consulted?”
“All do not see with the eyes of Waahia,” returned the priest, evasively.
Flattered by this recognition of her superiority, the kaula said, as she turned to depart: “You will know more to-morrow!” And an hour after, accompanied by Kualu, she left Waipio for Molokai.
The priest was not deceived by Waahia, for the day after authentic intelligence was received from Maui to the effect that Kalaunui’s campaign had been a failure in Kauai, and the king was a prisoner in the hands of Kukona. The leading chiefs were called together in council, and several projects for the liberation of the king were advanced and discussed. Kaheka was in favor of raising a powerful army at once, and bringing her royal husband back by force; but when it was considered by cooler heads that Kukona was undoubtedly well prepared for war, and had secured the friendship, and in an emergency could command the support, of the chiefs of Maui, Oahu and Molokai, the suggestion was dismissed as dangerous and impracticable.
Under the circumstances it was finally resolved to attempt the liberation of Kalaunui through negotiation; and to this end messengers were despatched to Kauai with offers of a large number of canoes, spears and other war materials in exchange for the royal prisoner. But the surrender of Kalaunui’s fleet, and the capture of thousands of spears and other arms, had given Kukona a great abundance of both, and he declined the offer.
Failing in this, after a lapse of some months messengers were again sent to Kukona with a proffer of twenty full-sized mamos, or royal feather cloaks, a canoe-load of ivory and whalebone, and a thousand stone lipis, or axes, of a superior kind peculiar to Hawaii. The messengers were courteously received and listened to, but the offer was not accepted.
War was again urged by Kaheka, but the chiefs refused to embark in an undertaking so hazardous, and without their support she could do nothing. And so for more than two years Kalaunui remained in captivity, when a third attempt to ransom him was made. Kaheka despatched to Kauai two ambassadors of high rank, offering her daughter Kapapa in marriage either to Kukona or his son, Manokalanipo, and promising perpetual peace between the islands. This offer was also declined, and Kukona refused to name to the ambassadors the terms upon which he would treat for the liberation of their king.
It now became a question either of war or the abandonment of Kalaunui to his fate. In this dilemma the priests and kaulas were consulted, but their predictions were vague and their counsels unsatisfactory. Remembering the words of Waahia, the high-priest sought the presence of Kaheka, and advised her to send for the old prophetess, who was living with her foster-son at Kalaupapa. This, after some persuasion, she consented to do, and, despatching a chief of high rank to Molokai, with the admission that she had accused Kualu unjustly, the kaula was induced to return with the messenger to Waipio. But Kualu did not accompany her. She was suspicious of Kaheka, and advised him to remain at Kalaupapa.
Arriving at Waipio, the kaula, feeling that the game was now in her own hands, informed the high-priest that she would communicate with the leading chiefs of the kingdom convened in council. The chiefs were accordingly assembled, and Waahia appeared before them. Kaheka was present, as the kaula desired.
With a staff in her hand, capped with the head of an owl, and her long, white hair falling to her waist, there was something weird and awe-inspiring in the appearance of the venerable prophetess as she entered the council-room and bowed low before Kaheka and the assembled chiefs. It was not her privilege to break the silence without permission, and when it had been formally accorded she raised her eyes, and, without especially addressing any one, said:
“Why have I been sent for?”
No one could answer, not even Kaheka.
At length an old chief, after conferring with those around him, replied:
“You have been sent for on the word of the high-priest, and with the hope that you might be able to point out a way for the return of Kalaunui to Hawaii. Can you do so?”
“I can speak of no way,” answered the kaula.
“Then you can do nothing?” returned the chief.
“My words were that I could speak of no way, nor can I,” said the kaula; “yet, keeping my own counsel, I might possibly be able to accomplish what you all desire.”
“And will you undertake to do so?” inquired Kaheka.
“Yes, on one condition,” was the prompt reply.
“Well, what do you ask for attempting to save the life of your king?” returned the queen, in a tone of rebuke.
Waahia did not like the spirit of the inquiry, and a scowl darkened her wrinkled face as she replied:
“I might ask that, if the gods willed that I should fail, Kaheka would not charge me with treachery!”
This reference to the treatment of Kualu created a feeling of uneasiness among the chiefs; but, without inviting remark or explanation, the kaula continued:
“What I require is a pledge from every chief here that, should I succeed in liberating Kalaunui, the terms of the release, whatever they may be, will be complied with.”
The chiefs hesitated, as it was not impossible that the sovereignty of the island might be offered to Kukona by the prophetess, and they could not pledge themselves to a sacrifice involving their own ruin. Waahia relieved their apprehensions, however, by assuring them that the pledge would not be considered binding if the terms affected either the sovereignty of the island or the lives, possessions or prerogatives of its chiefs. With this assurance the members of the council, after briefly discussing the possibilities of the obligation, consented to accept it. Thereupon the pledge was carefully repeated thrice by the chiefs, and each in turn solemnly invoked upon himself, should he fail to keep and observe it in its fulness, the wrath of Hikapoloa, the divine trinity, and the swift and especial vengeance of Kuahana, the slayer of men.
“Are you satisfied now?” inquired Kaheka.
“I am satisfied,” replied the kaula.
“Do you require assistance?” This inquiry came from more than one.
“Only of the gods!” was the impressive answer of Waahia, as she left the council and slowly wended her way up the valley.
All night long strange lights flashed at intervals through the weather-rent openings in the kaula’s hut. Shadowy forms were seen to move noiselessly around it; owls came and went as the lights vanished and reappeared; and, just as the sun began to paint the east, Waahia proceeded to the beach, and with a single sturdy assistant of supernatural aspect embarked in a canoe which seemed to be equipped and provisioned for a long voyage. This was the ghostly narration of two or three of the nearest neighbors of the prophetess, and the truth of the story was not doubted, even when it reached the palace. Doubtless the plain facts were that Waahia spent the most of the night in preparing for the voyage, and set sail early in the morning with an assistant known to be trustworthy and familiar with the sea.
Waahia proceeded very leisurely to Kauai. The annual feast of Lono was approaching, and as she desired to arrive there during the festival, which would not be for some days, she spent the intervening time in visiting many sacred spots and noted temples on Maui, Oahu, Molokai and Lanai. Perhaps to commune with the honored dead, she made a pilgrimage to the sacred valley of Iao, on the island of Maui, where were buried many of the distinguished kings and chiefs of the group. She stopped at Kalaupapa, on Molokai, to confer with Kualu, and while there paid a visit to the home, near Kaluakoi, of Laamaomao, the wind-god, who came from the south with Moikeha more than a century before; and in the same valley visited the dreaded spot where, in the reign of Kamauaua, the father of Kaupeepee, the abductor of Hina, near the close of the eleventh century, sprang up in a night the poisoned grove of Kalaipahoa, or, according to another tradition, where that goddess, belonging to a family of southern deities, visited the group with two of her sisters, and entered and poisoned a small grove of trees of natural growth.
From one of these poisonous trees the famous idol of Kalaipahoa was made. So poisonous was the wood that many died in cutting down the tree and carving the image, for all perished whose flesh was touched by the chips; but the workmen finally covered their bodies with kapa, including masks for their faces and wraps for their hands, and thus succeeded in completing the dangerous task without farther loss of life. But a single image was made. It remained with the ruling family of Molokai until the subjugation of the group by Kamehameha I., when it came into his possession, and at his death, in 1819, was divided among a few of the principal chiefs. Two fragments of the image, it is said, are still preserved, but they are carefully guarded and never exhibited to eyes sceptical or profane. Long before Waahia visited the spot the last vestige of the grove had disappeared, but for many acres around where the terrible trees once stood the earth was black and bare. Within the dreaded area no living thing was seen, and birds fell dead in flying over it. But the kaula entered it and returned unharmed, to the amazement of more than one witness.
Waahia next visited the heiau of Kaumolu, which was then a puhonua, or place of refuge, and in another temple near the coast offered sacrifices to the shark-god Mooalii. By reputation she was generally known to the priesthood of the group, and was nowhere regarded as an intruder in places sacred to worship.
Stopping at Ewa, on the island of Oahu, she saw for the first time the hallowed enclosure of Kukaniloko, the creation of Nanakaoko, son of Nanamaoa, the earliest arrival from the south of the migratory stream of the eleventh century. Chiefs born there were endowed with especial prerogatives and distinctions, and the beating of a sacred drum called hawea gave notice without of the birth of a tabu chief.